


Yield

by lucymonster



Category: Bleach
Genre: First Time, M/M, Power Imbalance, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-24 17:59:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17709017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/pseuds/lucymonster
Summary: ‘With me, Renji,’ the Captain says. So Renji follows.He always follows.





	Yield

**Author's Note:**

  * For [live_with_love](https://archiveofourown.org/users/live_with_love/gifts).



He never does get a chance to ask what’s going on. ‘With me, Renji,’ the Captain says, so Renji follows. He always follows.

Even more than usual, the Captain’s demeanour prohibits questions. There’s something off about him today – a violent energy, a tension that vibrates all around him and makes Renji’s teeth rattle in his skull. Perhaps he’s in trouble. Perhaps he’s gotten something wrong, and the Captain is escorting him to the barracks to collect his things before kicking him out on his ass for good. Perhaps–

They’re not going to Renji’s quarters. They’re taking a left towards the Captain’s private suite.

They’re stepping inside. They’re closing the door.

The air around them ripples at flash-step speed and Captain Kuchiki is right there in Renji’s space, hand on his sternum, gripping his collar. Their eyes lock, only inches apart.

'You’re slow today,' the Captain says.

Renji stops breathing. 

He’s wanted this for so long, but it’s always been impossible, always been so far outside the realms even of idle fantasy. He doesn’t know what he’s done to trigger this. Doesn’t know if it’s even real or if he’s dreaming it. But despite the Captain’s firm grip on his collar, Renji senses hesitation – or restraint, at least. This is Renji’s reaction window. If he pushes back now, Captain Kuchiki will let him go and step away and the whole thing will be over, maybe for the night or maybe for good. They’ll be captain and lieutenant, just like normal.

Captain and lieutenant. What a joke. Not once in more than fifty years have Renji’s feelings for Captain Kuchiki ever been so simple.

Without breaking eye contact, Renji tilts his head back and bears his throat. 'Maybe it’s because I wasn’t trying to dodge,' he says.

There’s a warning in the way the Captain’s grip tightens. He’s an absolutist, always has been, and that’s not going to change now in this most intimate of spheres. There’ll be no room tonight for play-resistance or backchat. It’s either yes or no. All or nothing. Yield, or don’t.

'Come on, Captain,' Renji says. 'Don’t leave me hanging here.'

He’s not expecting a whole lot of tenderness, but then, he’s not sure he really wants any. The Captain’s mouth is a firebrand on Renji’s skin. His teeth scrape the pulse point just beneath Renji’s jaw, and his body against Renji’s is as solid as the floor beneath his feet. He’s rough with the knot of Renji’s belt, rough as he pulls away layers of fabric, but he slaps Renji’s hand away when he moves to reciprocate. 'Captain,' Renji says, not knowing if the word is a complaint or an encouragement or just a random sound to break the breathless silence between them.

The Captain nips at his ear, and the sensation trickles right down to Renji’s groin. 'You’ve done this before?'

_ Which bit? _ Renji wants to say, but then the Captain lifts Renji clean up out of the puddle of his discarded clothes and presses him back against the wall, and as Renji’s legs wrap instinctively around the Captain’s hips it becomes very clear what kind of ‘this’ they’re talking about. The Captain is hard, and Renji’s bare ass is resting right where it needs to be. 'I … I … yeah, I have,' he gasps, as the Captain’s tongue traces the line of his jaw.

His arousal is shot through with adrenaline as the Captain frees himself from his hakama and spits into his hand. It’s a rough gesture, so different anything he’s ever seen from the clean and polished Captain Kuchiki. He’s really going to fuck Renji just like this, crude and careless like a rent boy in an alley, and the part that makes Renji’s stomach churn isn’t shame, isn’t fear of pain. It’s how bad he wants it. How hard he’s trying to lift his legs higher, open himself up more, how the friction of his bare cock on the Captain’s clothed body is making his breath shudder and his eyes water. They’re really doing this. No foreplay. No conversation. Their lips haven’t even touched each other’s. 

The Captain’s cock nudges Renji’s hole and then pushes in, barely slick enough, and the sharp burn of being taken is less overwhelming than the awareness of who it is that’s doing the taking. That it’s  _ Captain Kuchiki _ stretching Renji open from the inside out, crushing the air from his lungs and replacing it with the white-hot, heavy reiatsu that bleeds past the barriers of his self-control.

Renji writhes and tightens and rocks in time to meet each thrust, while his higher self floats somewhere overhead and watches it all happen in a grey haze of disbelief.

The Captain lifts him off the wall and steers him to his hands and knees on top of the futon. He spits again. This way feels a little better, a little less raw, and the haze clears as Renji arches his back into it and opens his body wide. There’s nothing unreal about the burning, bruising ache of being fucked face down into the mattress. God damn, he’s going to be sore tomorrow. He pictures the next officers’ meeting: standing by the Captain’s side in front of a circle of attentive soldiers, trying not to show his discomfort, trying not to let any of them guess what he spent the night getting used for. 

The thought is a white-hot spike to Renji’s groin. He moans aloud, and the Captain’s thrusts falter and he clamps a hand over Renji’s mouth. Fuck. Of course. There are other soldiers nearby, men and women on duty having a totally normal evening in the rooms just down the corridor. The thought doesn’t exactly help take the edge off. He’s dizzy, thrusting back for real now, cock hanging heavy between his legs, and when he moans again the sound is muffled in Captain Kuchiki’s palm. His insides burn and it’s nowhere near enough.

Heat. Heavy breathing. The slap of skin on skin. Renji works a hand between his body and the mattress, and he’s far enough gone that the touch of his own damn hand is enough to make him gasp. He’s not sure how much more of this he can take – how much longer before the hot ache turns to ragged, swollen pain, before hurts-so-good turns to please-make-it-stop. If he lets himself come it’s going to be the end of him. He’s dangerously close already, rocking hard between his hand and the Captain’s cock. But if he comes like this, fuck, he’s going to come all over the Captain’s bed. The  _ Captain’s _ bed. He can’t do it. He can’t let himself –

A strangled little sound and the Captain’s hips go abruptly still. His hand clenches tight over Renji’s mouth, like he’s trying to shut himself up by proxy. His reiatsu wobbles as he comes. Renji wishes he could see his face.

And by all rights surely it should be over now. Captain Kuchiki has what he wanted; Renji’s body has served its purpose. But instead of moving away, he pulls Renji with him as he rolls off to the side so that they’re curled together, and breathes. He drapes an arm around Renji’s middle, fingers tracing a ticklish path down his stomach. They’re skin to skin – well, Renji’s bare skin to the Captain’s rumpled uniform, but pressed together as close as this the barrier hardly matters. And when the Captain laces their fingers together and guides Renji’s hand back to his own neglected cock, the bedsheet etiquette issue stops seeming so important. It takes all of five seconds before Renji comes, biting back a shout, shaking and spasming in the Captain’s steady arms.

Breath and sense return slowly. There’s a spell hanging over the room, warm and quiet and heavy; if Renji speaks, it’ll break. What now? His head is warm and fuzzy. Is he meant to lie here and cuddle? Make himself scarce? Thank the Captain for the nice thorough pounding, clean himself up and go back to his own bed?

Silent understanding is the Captain’s mother tongue. Renji needs a fucking phrasebook. 

If only he could see the Captain’s face, maybe he’d be able to guess at where they stand now – what it means that the Captain is holding him close like this, face buried in his hair, breathing slowly. Whether they’re lying together this way because it’s easier than talking, and if so, what it is that the Captain’s so keen on not having to say aloud.

He still doesn’t know why this is even happening. What the Captain has seen in him tonight that he hasn’t seen any other day.

But maybe Renji’s overcomplicating things. Maybe it’s exactly as simple as it looks: they fucked, and now they’re relaxed and worn out and can’t be bothered moving. The Captain hasn’t complained yet about Renji’s continued presence in his bed. And it’s not as if Captain Kuchiki has ever struggled with self-assertion before.

Maybe it’s fine to stick around for a while. Renji’s eyes drift closed, and he relaxes down into the mattress, and the Captain’s arm stays tight around his waist.


End file.
